


Taste it Rolling on Your Tongue

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, F/M, Rare Pairing, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clinton is typically patient, but not when Sara is leaving him all the right, arousing signs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste it Rolling on Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Lefaym. Title comes from _Steer_ by Missy Higgins.

Clinton couldn't stand it.

He was a patient man, typically. He had to be, to deal with surveillance, and spending hours in that stupid van. But this -- this was the one thing he had no patience for, and the worst part was that he knew he was being played.

Sara, on a hot evening, sitting on his sofa wearing nothing but her white bikini underwear and a thin, white tank top. She had one knee pulled to her chest, baring the crotch of her panties to the room. She pushed her thick-rimmed reading glasses up her nose as she studied a single piece of paper in her hand.

Clinton grabbed it out of her hand.

"Hey!" Sara said, reaching up for it, but Clinton just looked down at her, unimpressed. He knew she wasn't paying attention to it, not really. Not when she was wearing that shirt, the one so thin he could make out the dark outline of her nipples.

"Are you even going to pretend you care about that?" he asked, carefully removing her glasses. He set them and the paper down on the coffee table.

She smirked and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her. "No," she said, stretching her neck out to press her mouth to his.

He hummed against her lips, and climbed onto the couch, towering over her. Sometimes, he forgot how tiny she was when she acted so larger than life. But like this, as he pushed her down onto the sofa, he felt like he could crush her.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice a little too high and wispy to be natural.

Clinton ran his hands up her sides, pulling at the fabric of her top, but not quite moving it up. He knew that voice, the same way he knew the shirt. She loved to dominate him, to ride him and use him, but now she wanted to flip the roles.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her neck. "What do you want?"

Sara pulled Clinton's shirttails from his pants and started pulling at the buttons from the bottom up. "Something dirty," she said. "Shock me."

_Something dirty. Shock me._

Her words went in one ear and straight to his cock. It had already been straining against the front of his trousers, and now he wanted to open up his pants and--

Suddenly, Clinton knew what he was going to do. "Oh, baby, you want dirty?" he muttered, nipping at her skin with his teeth.

"Give it to me," Sara replied. She had his shirt open now and was running her hands up and down his chest, stopping to pull at his nipples. "Do it."

God, she didn't even know what he was going to do, and she wanted it. She couldn't know what that did to him. Or maybe she did, and that was exactly why she did it.

He sat back and pulled his shirt off before he reached down to open his fly. He moved forward until he nearly straddling Sara's stomach, and pulled out his cock.

Sara's breathing went shallow as she looked first at his dick, and then she met his eye. She grinned, and Clinton couldn't help but grin back, loving the way her smile lit up her face.

Shit. He was really falling for her.

Pushing that thought aside, Clinton took a hold of his cock. He stroked it a few times, just enjoying the feel of his hand against the smooth skin. He took a deep breath and let his whole body relax. After a moment urine began to leak from his dick, until it built up to a stream, spraying onto her chest.

Sara gasped. "Oh, god, it's hot."

The piss spread across her shirt and her nipples became dark and visible as her shirt turned translucent. Streaks ran down her sides, flooding the crease of the sofa. Sara moaned and rolled her body toward the pool, her forearm dipping into it.

"You like that?" Clinton asked as the flow tapered off. He gave his dick a shake and a drop splattered against her cheek.

"God, yes," she said breathlessly. "That was dirty."

Clinton grinned and leaned over, kissing the bare skin of her chest. The urine was sharp against his tongue, but he didn't stop. He slid down her body and pressed his open lips to her nipple, capturing it in his mouth, and began sucking the piss-soaked fabric around it. His hand slid between her legs and his fingers pushed aside her underwear to play with her clit.

Sara writhed beneath him. "Fuck. Clinton!"

He grinned and moved onto the other breast, and bunching the shirt around her hard tit, he rubbed the wet cotton against it. She grabbed onto his forearm, and squeezed it tightly, pulling herself up some as she came.

"Oh, baby," she muttered as she fell back against the soiled couch. She rubbed her hand across her wet ribcage, and pulled at the fabric, admiring the way it stuck to her skin for an instant before it peeled away. She looked up at him and grinned. "That hit the spot. I think I owe you a blowjob."

"Yeah? Not before I clean you up." Clinton got up from the couch, and dick hanging from his fly, he leaned over and scooped her up, easily slinging her over his shoulder.

Sara laughed and struggled against him, until he slapped her on the ass. Then she just laughed and bopped him against the shoulder. She pointed to the sofa and faked a shocked gasp. "Look at that mess you made. You'll have to clean that up, too."

He turned around and looked down. There was the faint, wet outline of a torso on one side. "Nah," he said as he carted her off to the bathroom, "I'll leave it for next time."


End file.
